


Four Thanksgiving Precursors

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Falling Skies
Genre: Gen, M/M, Post-Series, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 16:51:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5298959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four lead ups to the second Thanksgiving after the war ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Thanksgiving Precursors

**Author's Note:**

> Cochise's Dad isn't dead in this because I'm still not sure why he's dead in canon???? it did nothing for the story and didn't make sense in universe. what fascinating dynamics the writers decided to kill because they have no idea how to write.

Matt is very proud of the sweater he chose.  It’s plain red.  Usually he doesn’t care what clothes look like, but this isn’t for him. 

He walks to the Volm embassy, feeling pretty good.  After all, Thanksgiving means food and who doesn’t like food?  Even mean Volm must like food since they have to eat and everything.  And Shaq comes to Thanksgiving every year and he’s kinda mean.

By now most of the Volm know him, either as Cochise’s weird human thing or as Frederick’s human’s weird brother, so they don’t stop him. 

“Hey!  Volm Grandpa!” Matt says, knocking on the kinda familiar door.  “Open up, it’s Matt.”

The door open and the Volm is staring down at him.  “I am not any relative of yours.”

“Whatever,” Matt says, shoving past him into the room. 

It’s plain, like always, with no decoration.  Which is super dumb because Matt’s given him a family picture!  He probably keeps it in a drawer because it’s super important.

“What do you want?” Volm Grandpa asks.

“It’s almost Thanksgiving!” Matt exclaims.  “You should come to dinner with the whole family!”

“I am not your family and Volm do not celebrate alien holidays,” Volm Grandpa says sternly.  “Leave.”

“Of course you’re family!” Matt protests.  “Cochise is my Volm Dad, so you’re my Volm Grandpa!  Real simple!”

“No,” Volm Grandpa says.  “I will remove you forcibly, but I would prefer not to because if I do, Chichauk will visit me and remind me of his shame.”

Matt glares at him, not totally understanding what Volm Grandpa is saying, but he recognizes the tone.  It’s the tone he always uses when he’s being a jerk about Cochise. 

His fists ball up around the sweater without even thinking about it. 

“I brought you a sweater and everything.  You should come,” Matt says, throwing it at him.

In response, Volm Grandpa wraps his arms around him and drags him to the door.  Matt kicks and punches him the whole way, until Volm Grandpa throws him in a heap.  The worst part is when the red sweater lands on his head.

He knows it’d make Volm Dad so, so happy if this jerk actually showed up to one of their family celebrations.  But that’s not gonna happen.

* * *

 

“Do you wanna come to Thanksgiving this year?” Ben asks over lunch.  Well, he eats and Frederick sits across from him because doesn’t actually need to eat three whole meals a day, but he likes to sit with Ben anyway.

“It is a strange holiday during which you give thanks to someone an entity I have been unable to locate,” Frederick says.  “I am more aware of human holidays this year than I was last year.”

Ben grins at Frederick’s explanation of Thanksgiving.  “Yes, that holiday.  I know that we didn’t invite you to the family dinner last year, but we had just started dating and it was the first Thanksgiving since the war ended and-“

“You do not need to explain your past behavior,” Frederick says, squeezing Ben’s shoulder.  “I do not understand human holidays, but I know they are important to you and to be shared with those who are important to you.”

“You’re important to me,” Ben says.

“I reciprocate the feelings,” Frederick says, “and I am glad that you consider me important.  I look forward to participating in this holiday.”

“We’ll provide all the food, but, uh, I’d appreciate it if you could wear something specific.  It’s kind of a Mason family tradition,” Ben says.  “If you don’t want to, that’s okay too, though!”

“Of course, I will wear the Mason family Thanksgiving uniform,” Frederick says.

Ben grins and finishes the last of his lunch.  “If you want, I can show you what to wear.  We’re not too far from home.”

“I would like that,” Frederick says.

They clean up their table and then walk home hand in hand.  When they get home, Ben darts up to their room and grabs the sweater he’s picked out for Frederick.  It’s a little too big, with scruffy looking cotton balls for the snow surrounding Santa’s sleigh. 

Frederick takes it from him.  He takes his shirt off and puts the sweater on.  There’s a concerning, long silence as Frederick seems to get used to his new clothing.

“This is comfortable human clothing,” Frederick says approvingly after a few minutes.  “The design is also interesting.”

 Ben breaks out in a grin.  “You really like it?”

“Yes,” Frederick says, nodding.  “When you said there was a uniform, I was expecting something much less pleasant.”

Ben leans over to kiss him gently.  “You can keep it, then.”

“You are so generous,” Frederick says, wrapping his arms around Ben.  “I may never remove this article of clothing.”

Ben laughs, getting a bit of cotton ball in his mouth in the process.

* * *

 

“How are you feeling?” Cochise asks, rubbing Tom’s back. 

Tom looks away from the book that he has been staring at, not really reading.  “I’m okay, I guess.” 

Cochise presses his lips to Tom’s cheek.  “I know you miss Rebecca the greatest amount when near the holidays.  And I suspect that this year will be most difficult for you.”

Tom raises an eyebrow.  “Why?”

“In previous years, you had war to occupy you,” Cochise says.  “Last year, there was the euphoria of victory.  Now we have had over a full year of peace, so I worry that you will feel your loss more keenly.”

Tom sighs, sets his book aside, and leans against Cochise.  “I love you, so much.  But I can’t help but wish that she was here.  We had so many traditions and just… when she died, we had no idea we would ever be able to celebrate Thanksgiving- or any of our traditions- again.  And she loved the holidays so much, Cochise.  So much.”

“You know that I do not doubt your love for me when you speak of Rebecca,” Cochise chides gently, wrapping his arms around Tom and pulling him close.  “But from all you have told me, I believe she would be glad to know you are safe and celebrating your human holidays again, as are your offspring.”

Tom nods against Cochise’s chest.  “She would.  That’s all she wanted.  That’s all I’d want in her place.”

Cochise can feel him shaking, which Cochise knows means Tom is crying.  “I am sorry for your pain.”

“It’s okay.  Helps keep her around, kind of,” Tom says, voice gummy. 

“I will help you in any way I can,” Cochise says.

“It helps knowing I can talk to you about her,” Tom says.  “Not everyone would be so kind.”

“I love you, and I want you to be comforted, especially when it is most difficult for you,” Cochise reassures him.

“Thank you,” Tom says.

Cochise rocks back and forth with Tom in his arms for a long, long time. 

* * *

 

“Don’t forget your sweater for Thanksgiving!” Hal says, waving a sweater in front of him gleefully. 

“I do not know why you insist that I wear these repulsive sweaters each year.  I already have several ridiculous human articles of clothing,” Shaq says.  “I do not know where you even procure new ones.”

Hal shoves the sweater into Shaq’s hands and walks towards Shaq’s dresser.  “It takes some effort to find clothes that can fit your massive body, but it’s worth it.”

“Volm clothing is sufficient for me, I assure you,” Shaq says.

Hal ignores him as he scrounges through Shaq’s human clothes drawer.  He can feel Shaq staring at his ass, a very familiar sensation.  Shaking his butt for Shaq’s benefit, he pulls Shaq’s sweater from last year out of the dresser.

Quickly, he pulls his own shirt off and puts the old sweater on.  Shaq’s sweater wondrously huge and it smells just like his boyfriend.  He wonders if this is what wearing a dress is like- something to look into. 

“You look ridiculous,” Shaq says.  “My sweater is much too large for you.”

“It also smells because you never do laundry,” Hal says, sniffing.  Maybe he won’t have to wear pants with sweaters this long.  “But I like it.” 

Shaq just grunts.

Hal grins and twirls a little.  The sweater balloons outwards and he’s pretty sure that his hands are roughly near where Shaq’s elbows would be. 

“Plus, a big holiday sweater like this is very easily weaponized,” Hal says.

“How?” Shaq suddenly seems very interested in him.  “I have never seen this.”

Hal darts forward and smacks him with the empty part of his right sleeve.  He jumps back once he’s done, waiting for Shaq’s reaction. 

Shaq looks down at where Hal smacked him, then back at Hal, seemingly astonished (or maybe Hal just hopes he looks astonished).  Moving surprisingly quickly for a creature so goddamn huge, he grabs Hal around the waist and picks him up like he’s made of paper. 

“Hey!” Hal says, smacking Shaq with the empty sleeves.  “What are you doing?”

“Disarming you,” Shaq says, easily carrying him over to the bed and laying him down.

“Not literally, right?  You’re not gonna take my arms, right?” Hal says, laughing hysterically.  “Humans can’t fix that!”

“Not yet,” Shaq says, starting to lift the hem of Hal’s sweater up.  “I am merely removing your weaponry.”

“You just want to take my clothes off!” Hal accuses. 

“Perhaps,” Shaq says.  “But it is always wise to unarm your opponent.”

“I’m not your opponent!  I’m your boyfriend!” Hal protests, squirming and trying to get away even though he knows it’s pointless.  Shaq is putting some of his weight on Hal’s legs, which means Hal can’t get away. 

“You are not my boyfriend,” Shaq says, still working to pull the sweater off.  “You are merely some random alien I engage in intercourse with.”

“Uh huh,” Hal says, laughing as Shaq manages to pull his sweater off and immediately starts licking his neck.  “Weird how you’ve managed to constantly end up in bed with me for years now.”

“It is a strange universe,” Shaq mumbles.

“We’re gonna be late for dinner if you keep going,” Hal says, groaning a little as Shaq finds just the right spot. 

“How unfortunate,” Shaq says.

“Wait!” Hal exclaims, pushing at Shaq, who moves accordingly.  “You’re doing this to make us late to Thanksgiving!”

“I do not know what you mean,” Shaq says.

“Okay, get up, you can take my clothes off _after_ dinner,” Hal says.

Shaq glares at him, but then gets up.  “This is a regrettable choice.”

“Aw, you know you love it, and you know I’ll make it worth your while,” Hal says, pulling the gigantic sweater back on.

“Your human holidays are inane,” Shaq says.

“Yeah, but you love them anyway.  And me,” Hal says gleefully.

Shaq just grunts and helps him to his feet, arm around Hal as they walk down the hall to the Thanksgiving feast.

 


End file.
